


Aftershocks

by Philomytha



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Drunkenness, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Identity Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2892815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philomytha/pseuds/Philomytha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galeni observes Vorish tradition after his father's funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftershocks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trobadora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trobadora/gifts).



Ivan paced around the embassy, passing through the security post for the fourth time and winding up in Galeni's silent office. He'd tried every trick he knew to stay with Galeni after the funeral, until Galeni had finally threatened to have him up on charges if he didn't go away and let him be. Ivan had been tempted to call his bluff even so, but the hint of desperation in Galeni's voice had held him back. 

His comm sounded suddenly, and Ivan jumped out of his anxious reverie, saying, "Yes?" into it with unaccustomed sharpness. 

"Sir--" he recognised Sergeant Barth's voice "--could you come to the main reception hall, please? No, sir, please---" His voice trailed off, and Ivan realised he was also speaking to someone else. He didn't wait for more, jogging through the embassy to the atrium, and arrived in time to hear a resounding splash.

"Oh, crap." That was Sergeant Barth, sounding unexpectedly anxious. Ivan rounded the corner. "Oh, here's Lieutenant Vorpatril, sir--"

The lights were dim, but Ivan could see enough. Galeni was in the central fishpond, sitting up in the water and leaning against the fountain, which was sprinkling water gently on his head. Spectacularly drunk, Ivan thought. That was okay, that was better than he had expected, in fact. That was traditional. What he didn't think he could cope with was--he got close enough to see Galeni's face, and winced as he saw his bloodshot eyes and the teartracks on his face. _That._

"Hey there, sir. You okay?" he said casually.

Galeni turned his head to look at him. "Oh. You. Why am I not surprised? Damn Vor. Damn, damn, damn fucking loyal Vor."

Ivan swallowed and turned quickly to Barth. "It's okay, I'll take it from here," he said. 

Barth was already backing away, but muttered, "Just call if you need anything, sir."

Once he was gone, Ivan perched on the edge of the fountain, companionably. "I've just about got used to you now, sir," he said. "Don't want to have to train another CO. How about you get out of there?"

Galeni seemed not to notice this, caught up in his own thread of mental logic. "It's all I've got now, the Vor," he said. "And ImpSec. Especially ImpSec. Nothing's changed, really. It's just all ... more true than it was before."

"Yeah, we're all still here," Ivan said a bit randomly. "Come on, sir." He extended a hand. "Get out of there. We don't want to find out that those goldfish really were Cetagandan assassins after all."

That got through; a small smile quirked Galeni's lips for a moment, making him look paradoxically more ghastly than before, and he leaned a little towards Ivan. Ivan grasped him by the arm and pulled. Galeni didn't exactly help, but he didn't fight either as Ivan dragged him to the edge and helped him out, getting thoroughly soaked in the process. It was all right in here, there was plenty of space around. Galeni sat unsteadily on the edge of the fountain, and Ivan perched beside him. 

" _Patria_ ," Galeni said suddenly. "It means your country. Like expatriate. And paternal. We had to learn some Latin at university. But literally it means Fatherland. D'you get it? Father-land. I think I'm an expatriate now from Komarr."

The only thing worse, Ivan thought, than watching Galeni drunkenly unravel like this would be leaving him to unravel on his own. He said nothing, but Galeni didn't seem to need a response to keep going.

"That's treason, saying that," he went on. "Komarr is Barrayar and Barrayar is Komarr. One big happy family. You should arrest me again." 

"If we arrested everyone for what they said when they were drunk, there wouldn't be an army left," Ivan said. "Uncle Aral would never be out of prison." He'd been trapped a few times with Uncle Aral when he was talking politics in his cups, without Tante Cordelia or Miles to serve as a buffer, and it had been awful. He wished he was back there now. 

"'Uncle Aral'," Galeni echoed disbelievingly. "How can you just _say_ that? Uncle Aral, the Bu--" He stopped, as if even drunk he wouldn't go any further. "I mean, with Miles you expect it. But you're ... normal. For a Vor, I mean. And then you come out with something like that." 

Normal, for a Vor. Ivan wondered if he could get that printed on his card. 

"Normal," Galeni repeated, as if he was reading Ivan's mind. "I just wanted it to be normal. To have a father. You know."

Ivan grunted. "Not really," he said. 

Galeni looked at him properly then, talking to him instead of at him for the first time. "Oh. Yeah."

It was probably in all that history he'd studied: the death of Lord Padma Vorpatril, some footnote somewhere, at least. Ivan shifted uncomfortably on the side of the fountain and said, attempting lightness, "Well, nobody I know has a normal father, so you fit right in."

"Huh," said Galeni, distracted. "You, and Miles, and--who else are you thinking of?"

"Gregor," said Ivan before he could stop himself. 

Galeni stared at him. "I thought Barrayarans never talked about that."

"We don't. I didn't. I'm not. Nobody does. But... I think he could give you a run for your money in the crap-fathers stakes." 

"Yeah," Galeni said. "Yeah." He seemed to be sobering a little now, recovering a bit of self-consciousness. "Does he do this too?"

Ivan said nothing, because Miles had told him about the suicide attempt and the rest of it. Galeni shook his head. 

"Sorry," he said. He was starting to shiver, water dripping from his trousers and pooling at his feet. 

"Why don't you go sleep it off now?" Ivan tried. 

Galeni stared across the atrium vaguely and ignored this. "I knew Father would hate anything I did," he said. "I knew it. It's not any different now that I have proof." 

Proof that consisted of his father kidnapping and torturing him, Ivan reflected. 

"But you know how he managed to kidnap me? I hoped it would be different. That's how stupid I was, Ivan. I hoped it would be different, so I went along to the meeting. I hoped--I hoped--" His voice faded to a whisper, almost inaudible under the play of the fountain. "I hoped he would be proud of me. When he was dead, it wasn't--I didn't have to worry about it any more, no hope. But then he was alive, and it was possible--and now he's dead again." Galeni swayed back, and for a moment Ivan considered letting him fall into the fountain again to put a stop to the conversation. But he couldn't quite bring himself to do it, so he put an arm around him instead. Galeni was shivering. 

"Come on, sir," he said. "You're soaked. You should go sleep it off now." 

Galeni drew breath to answer. Ivan didn't think he could take another round of this, so he stood up and hauled Galeni upright too. He didn't resist, but Ivan kept a hand on his arm to steer him out of the reception hall and up the stairs. They left a dripping trail on the carpet as they went through the embassy. The cleaners weren't going to be happy, Ivan thought, but at least Galeni wasn't talking. He yawned, but seemed steady on his feet, and Ivan was just hoping he could shove Galeni through his bedroom door and leave it at that when Galeni stopped in the doorway. 

"Fucking loyal Vor," he repeated, a calmer echo of his earlier words, "but it's kind of beautiful, you know. Barrayar, the Vor, all of it. Beautiful." 

"Mm," said Ivan. 

Galeni swayed forwards and for the second time in a month Ivan found himself hugging him. This time he was a lot wetter. Galeni mumbled something Ivan couldn't make out, then pushed away. 

"D'you need a hand?" Ivan asked. 

Galeni steadied himself against the doorway and shook his head. "I'll manage. You can go to bed now, Ivan."

"Good night, then, sir." Ivan 

"'Sir'," Galeni echoed. "How Barrayaran. Even when your CO is drunk and soaking wet, you call him sir."

"What do you want me to say?" Ivan asked patiently. "Good night, Duv?"

"David," he whispered. "I don't want... I don't want him to be the last person who's called me that."

Ivan hesitated, and then, feeling like he was carrying a lighted torch through a gunpowder factory, said, "Good night, David."

Galeni looked straight at him then, little-boy eyes in a man's face, and whispered, "Thank you, Ivan."


End file.
